The Never Ending School Shooting
It's been a month now A month and approximately six days. That long since the guns of death were drawn and set upon my shitty school near Greensboro, North Carolina. Four masked students wearing kevlar busted into our main entrance firing round at the innocent pedestrians. First our main office was slaughtered off, the staff fleeing like pigs being chased by American filth. Bodies were riddled with holes, filled to the brim of lead and smoke. Us students hid behind locked doors and furiously texted our parents. Classrooms dies off one by one, the shooters using their power tools to crack through the tough barriers. Our hearts pounded in our chests, a rhythmic concert of fear and anxiety, clawing at the ears of the unfortunate audience. Most of my fellow classmates reached their parents, begging them to stay calm and bidding a pre-emptive farewell for worse case scenarios. At 5 pm eastern time, the firing ceased. A group of swat enforcers lead us out to safety, my peers catching sights of their dead friends stained bloody on the floor. I headed home, crying tears of grief, tears of sorrow, tears of pain. I woke up the next day feeling dread. I had smothered myself last night to fall asleep, my eyes wide open from pure paranoia. I followed the same old routine like usual, brushing my teeth, combing my hair, and blasting a nice breeze of deodorant onto my body. My parents knocked on my door beckoning me to head to school. School? School after a shooting? I frantically googled up my school on the news and in horror, I saw no impending results. Just the plain old white page describing the location and phone number. The date on my calendar matched one yesterday, even though I had lived through the terror once fold. I phoned my friends but they all seemed to have also forgotten the previous events. The memories of the cullings lost in the wind, a whimsical breeze during the tempest of a storm. I brushed away my concerns and left my house for school with my bike. Peddling aggressively, I met up with my morning chit chat group on the way there, sheepishly discussing about the latest Mcu movie in theaters. It all felt like another average day, in this god-awful world we live in. My buddies laughing at some nerdy jokes, me tripping on some stupid pile of rocks, my phone dying early because of it's stupid battery. It all seemed normal. I walked into my first period course, feeling less worried, classifying "yesterday's" events as a dream. A bad dream. I sat in my chair and waited for the teacher. No one came. The kids around me buzzed happily, strangely fine with the absence of the professor. I too, conversated with some pals of mine, disregarding this as a internal mistake. Then came the gunfire. Screaming ensued, chairs pushed, tables moved, all thrown to barricade the iron door. Girls and boys cried, as I stood there in shock. Shouts rang throughout the halls, the lockdown lever being pulled by some future victim whose life was about to end. 17 casualties. 4 in critical condition. Police cars drove here and front, collecting us children. Luckily our classroom was deep inside the school, so the shooters couldn't find the time to check in. Once again my friends and I survived the shooting. The second shooting. And for the fucking last month and six days our school has been getting shot up. Four masked men each time. The casualties vary, but the dead never come back. School starts again on the same day exempting the people who died previously such as my teacher. They never come back. By now it's only me and a few others. I think I'm the only one whose aware of the loop we've been caught in. We spend our last days huddling in storage rooms, bullets clicking on the metal around us. So please. Send help. Anything. I fear anytime soon, they will find us. And if they don't, we might find them. Category:Fanfic Category:Creepypasta